Priceless, Worthless, Nonsense
by sebastianathefirst
Summary: The cruise along life can board regrets. Loneliness is not mind play. Nobody can love a diamond that is flawless. Ryou recognizes this, and tries to show Bakura that he is welcome in his body, involuntarily falling in love with him...


**A/N:** Taking a B-R-E-A-K from XHatch, and still debating whether I should continue L'Maga Analogia.

The first story of V-OBLIQUE, my Vocaloid 100. Basically, I'll have to write Yu-Gi-Oh! fiction with Vocaloid songs set as their themes. This also declares my first go at [one-sided] Tendershipping.

**Disclaimer:** Yu-Gi-Oh! trademark is the copyright of Kazuki Takahashi, Hatsune Miku of Crypton Future Media, and 1925 of T-POCKET.

**Theme #1:****  
Priceless, Worthless, Nonsense  
Inspired by Hatsune Miku's **_**1925**_

Ryou placed his palm over Bakura's fingers. The latter reacted at once, "What do you want?"

He felt Ryou's hand cringe for a moment, until he answered. "Nothing. Well, no…I want this. I want to hold your hand like _this_."

Bakura raised a brow. "You wanna hold my hand?" It made him uncomfortable when Ryou expressed his affection. And now that he thought of it, he considered it bastardly and hideous.

…Not that Ryou was cute to begin with. He was a _pathetic_ creature, and getting on Bakura doesn't change that; it aggravated the situation.

He scowled as Ryou's smile faded. "…You don't want it?"

"A better question: who would?" Bakura pulled his hand out from beneath Ryou's and kept it out of range. "You sound like a damn girl."

Ryou's hand withdrew to the front of his chest, and Bakura could see it trembling, just a bit. Shadows curved around his eyes, "I don't like being called a girl, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why'd you do it, then?"

"Because you made me!"

"What did _I_ do?"

With a hiss, Bakura clasped Ryou's wrist and forced his hand on his. "This! You did this! Nobody wants that from a guy, let alone _you_!"

Ryou yanked his hand from him and rubbed his wrist, avoiding Bakura's gaze, silently, at first. Then, he smiled, but before he could speak—

"Dammit, you!" Bakura turned away. There was no bearing to see him smile. It was laughable; it wasn't worth his pity. "Leave me alone."

"But…" he heard a falter in Ryou's voice, "I just—"

"LEAVE!"

A small gasp, and before Bakura could judge whether it was out of fear _or_ tears, he no longer felt his static weight on his back.

But he couldn't laugh. In his solitude, he couldn't laugh.

Nobody else bothered to reprimand Bakura for crying; it was natural, he'd heard Yuugi mention once before. Not even that ratbag of a pharaoh interfered. And so what if he did?

"And they call _me_ a bastard," he spoke to none in particular, "I'm stuck with a fag who wouldn't look down lest he sees his pride swell when I'm around. Disgusting bitch."

He agreed that this "fag" was more disgusting than the pharaoh was an "infuriation". But if he were given the chance of to switch hosts to a more preferable…

"Don't even think about it," Bakura scolded himself. There was no way he could switch hosts now. Fag or not, the Ring chose Ryou to host his spirit. And yet the Spirit itself had no stand on who he wanted to choose.

So it was essentially the Ring's fault. And Bakura was a prisoner within the bastardly thing. Neither was there telling if he will ever be free.

Having thought too much and too long, Bakura retired into the darkness. "Dammit."

* * *

When Ryou had returned, as Bakura assumed, he shut his lips, refraining from complaint. It was hard, but he certainly didn't want him crying again. Upon remembering it, he examined Ryou's eyes. There was indeed red lining along his eyes, though they were faint.

But it was no longer the point. Ryou was wearing vintage. The kind that made him look like a…

"It's a stewardess costume that Yuugi lent to me," Ryou said with a beam. He pulled slightly on the dark skirt, seemingly adjusting it. "The blouse was too tight at the bottom, so I unbuttoned a couple…"

Bakura looked away, his anger built up. What the _hell_ did Ryou take him for? "That's it; you've declared yourself a complete—"

"Don't say it!" Bakura faced him again, but saw beyond Ryou's upset expression. "I dressed up like this so you'd praise me!"

"Why the _hell_ would I praise you for wearing a stewardess uniform?" Bakura roared, his voice echoing in his chasm of a soul room.

"I thought…"

"That you'd get me excited?"

"No!" Ryou made a grab for Bakura's arm, and Bakura jerked away. Ryou did not hesitate next: he wound his arms round Bakura's waist. "Listen to me!"

Bakura made himself as rigid as possible against Ryou's touch. It was not cute, and absolutely _not_ arousing.

But the Ring chose him.

"…You don't have to be alone," Ryou spoke softly, different from his agitated tone whenever he was upset. "You're using my body, aren't you? I don't want you to feel unwelcome."

Bakura sighed. Though company and friendship meant to anger him more than enmity had, he couldn't bring himself to it. Nothing reasonable about that, either, but he still _wasn't_ angry. "So you welcome me by _private_ display of affection?"

"That wasn't what I meant!" Ryou answered. "I…well…I guess I felt for you along the way."

Now_ that_ pissed him. So much that he could not move. "You are the most _disgusting_, _pathetic_…" he continued to find anything to swear against Ryou, anything to shame him, bring him to hysterics, lighten his hold.

Nothing happened, though. Bakura had assumed that he stood there and took it. What a fag.

"…If…"Ryou muttered, though Bakura listened. "…If you can't love me back, then there's no way you'd love anyone else."

"We have finally reached an understanding. There's no one _to_ love, to start with."

"I loved you."

"And now you don't, right?"

Ryou did not answer, and Bakura felt his presence leave once more.

The Ring chose him.

The Spirit will not accept him.

Nothing comes out of this.

1925.


End file.
